


Smug Bastard

by Adara_Rose



Series: the x-rated collection [2]
Category: True Blood
Genre: Anal Sex, First Time, First Time Bottoming, M/M, Oral Sex, Porn with Feelings, Rimming, Topping from the Bottom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-06
Updated: 2014-07-06
Packaged: 2018-02-07 18:59:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1910085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adara_Rose/pseuds/Adara_Rose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Continuation on THAT scene in 7x02 that somehow ended up with feels.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Smug Bastard

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Remlundskan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Remlundskan/gifts).



> For Helen, who wanted Eric/Jason porn. And for me, who can't write porn without sticking feels in it somewhere.

There’s something inherently weird and exotic about kissing a vampire. What with the lack of blood supply and such, you’d expect them to be cool, right? Well, okay, so Eric’s mouth is cool, but not icy. More like a cold drink, like the drink he made for Jason – god, was that really just a few minutes ago? Amazing how time flies when you’re being kissed by one of the most gorgeous men you’ve ever seen. His hands are cold, too, but maybe that is only due to the feverish heat of your own skin, the shameful heat. You wouldn’t admit in a million years how much you want this, how much you’ve wanted this since the first time you saw him. You expect that he already knows that, the smug bastard, with his superior sense of smell. He could probably smell the lust on you already back then.

But indignation has no place in this room, on this bed. Shame has no place either. There is only room for want, desire, please, your hunger for his hands, his mouth, his fangs. His hands are on your body, sliding up under your shirt, cool on your trembling, feverish skin, soothing a fever you didn’t know you were suffering from. His mouth, pressed against yours, is cool, too. His tongue is slick, wet, and agile – teasing your tongue out to meet, entwine, dance, battle, and ultimately surrender. It doesn’t matter that you’re currently on top – you both know he’s in charge. One of his hands has found your nipple, now, squeezing and rolling the nub between his fingers until it hardens almost painfully, mimicking the throbbing hardness between your legs. You’d be embarrassed by how quickly you reach to him if it wasn’t for the fact that all you care about now is having him, in any way he’ll let you. And he lets you.

His mouth leaves yours in a way that can be called reluctant, trailing hungry kisses down your jaw, your neck, pausing at your jugular, while you desperately try to catch your breath. The hand that you lost track of earlier reappears now, squeezing your ass in a way you’ve never dreamed of letting a guy do before, but suddenly you want him to do it again but without any layers of clothing lying between his fingers and your skin. You wonder if he’s cool everywhere.

You’re panting now, struggling to catch your breath, but you forget how to breathe when his fangs sink into your flesh, at the point where your neck becomes shoulder. He drinks slowly, languidly, as if to show you that he can more than to feed, and you trash in his arms. It’s too good, too soon, and at the same time too little, too late. It’s so confusing. All you know is that you want more. The hand that’s still under your chest is now focused on your other nipple, tweaking and rubbing until it aches as much as its twin, straining against the fabric of your t-shirt, now stained with your sweat. Your hands suddenly find themselves able to move and you tug at the hem, wanting it off, wanting more of his touch. Your skin aches for his touch, now, or maybe it always have and you just never knew it.

He laughs quietly as he rips your shirt off, baring your torso; eyeing the nipples he’s tormented. The he goes for them with the same mouth that has just forced yours into submission, and when his tongue touches your heated flesh you whimper. It’s the most humiliating sound you’ve ever made, up to that point, but you know on some level that before the night is through you’ll be squealing like a girl – when you’re not screaming his name. And that’s okay with you, so you tangle your fingers in his hair to show encouragement, grinding your hips against his and feeling a reassuring hardness beneath you. He wants this, too. You reward him by twisting your head down so you can rake your teeth over the outer shell of his ear, relishing in the resulting shudder.

He is alternating between your nipples, using mouth and teeth to send little shocks of pleasure directly to your dick, which is so hard it hurts now. You untangle one hand from his hair and try to unbuckle your pants, but you’re trembling so hard now you can’t get the button to open. You tremble like a virgin, you realize, embarrassed. Well, of course you do, you are a virgin. At this, at least. You’ve never had a man before. Never wanted a man before. But you want Eric now, want him here, want him hard and hungry beneath you, behind you, inside you, and you can’t find it in you to be ashamed. Shame will come with the morning.

This is why you only moan encouragingly when he, vampire-quick, divests you of the rest of your clothing, leaving you nude as a babe in his lap, your hard cock leaking precum all over your stomach and his jeans. He rolls you over, on your back, and the impact makes your legs fall open on their own. You try to close them, apparently still able to be embarrassed, but he’s too quick to slide in between them.

Now isn’t that a glorious sight, Eric Northman kneeling between your spread thighs, looking at you like a starving man at a banquet? Well, or a hungry vampire on an available human, if you prefer that metaphor. Whatever metaphor you prefer, you don’t have time to think of it since that cool mouth is back on your skin, and that slick tongue paints a wet trail from your swollen nipples down over your heaving stomach, pausing to swivel into your belly button, mimicking what a part of you desperately wants his cock to do. Preferably between your legs. It’s a pretty big part of you at this point.

He pushes your knees up, which forces you to spread your legs further. You’re completely bared to him now, and even though you know he’s a predator, that he’s killed, that he could snap your neck in the blink of an eye before you even saw him move, this vulnerability doesn’t make you frightened. It makes you feel hot, hungry, and an ache you’ve never felt before starts to build down there, in a place you’ve never thought of as sexual before. You’ve never really thought of that place at all, have you? Never mind putting something up there. But this ache can only be described as _empty_. You’re feeling empty. You want Eric inside, his hips straining against yours. You’re so lost in this realization that you don’t notice him leaving for a moment, but you do notice when he returns – mostly because he is nude, now, like you, his gorgeous body bared for your greedy gaze. And he is magnificent, isn’t he, all hard angles and straight lines and his cock standing hard and proud between his legs. You’ve never been up close and personal with another man’s cock, have you? Not like this. Just your luck that the first thing you think when you see it is “I want that in me”. Now you ain't gay, never been gay, but this is Eric. This is wild, gorgeous, ruthless Eric and he’s-  fuck, he’s kissing the inside of your thigh, wet open-mouthed kisses with just a bit of fang thrown in for good measure. Your head falls back and you can’t keep yourself from moaning anymore.

It’s so surreal you almost think you’re dreaming, Eric Northman is between your legs, worshipping your body as if you were a gift from whatever God a creature like him believes in. if he believes in a god. It doesn’t matter as long as that gorgeous tongue keeps laving your balls, strong cold hands gripping your hips to hold you in place. You’re going to have bruises there later, but you like knowing that. So you bury your fingers in his hair, moaning, back arching, chest heaving. This is too damn good. None of your girlfriends ever worshipped you like this, had you on the edge of cumming without even touching your dick. But Eric does, Eric-

Eric ignores your hungry cock, his focus is lower, and on the part of you you’ve never thought of as erotic or desirable before. But Eric, Eric really fucking goes to town on it. His hungry mouth is working your ass now, licking the cleft with long, sure licks, the kind you’ve read about in that kinky story when you were fifteen and tried on your girlfriend and she came so damn hard her legs turned to jelly. You never understood what it was that was so damn good about it but Eric is pushing his tongue into your hole now and fucking French-kissing it and his hand is on your cock pulling once, twice, and you’re coming like a rocket, cock shooting so hard you swear your come hits the wall above your head. And Eric-

Eric, the goddamn smug bastard, doesn’t stop rimming you. Hell he doesn’t even pause even though you’re feeling so over-sensitive that one more lick is going to make you fucking scream, but he just keeps working you. He’s tongue-fucking you now, and never mind that your body is still quaking from orgasm because you’re hardening again, cock rising from where it flopped down after one of the hottest orgasms you can remember having ever, and you tug at Eric’s hair that would have been painful on a human but now only makes Eric groan in what has to be pleasure cause he shoves his tongue in as far as he can get it and fucking _twists_ , and if it wasn’t for the fact that you’ve just come you’d be a goner right about now.

Then that tongue is gone and replaced by long, slender, wicked fingers, working your hungry hole open even more. It feels like your ass is trying to swallow his fingers or something, contracting and squeezing around them, sucking them in deeper. It doesn’t soothe the hollow ache one bit, though. It just makes it more intense. You bear down on his fingers and Eric’s eyes go from laughing to animalistic in an instant.

*Jason” he growls and everything is in those two syllables. You say even more back with just one, _yes_ , and his fingers are gone, making you whimper in protest. But it’s okay because Eric is on his knees now, he’s between your legs and he’s pushing his hungry cock into your ass and you swear you’re seeing stars. You wonder, dazedly, why it doesn’t hurt but his fangs are sinking into your neck again and somehow he’s ended up on top of you, inside of you, between your legs and holy fucking shit that has to be your prostate cause whatever he just hit shoving his cock in like that has you keening, stars going off before your eyes.

He pulls your legs up so you’re nearly bent in half, changing the angle he’s plowing you and it feels even better, you didn’t think it was possible but there you have it, it’s so damn good you dig your heels into the small of his back, your hands gripping his shoulders, and you’re moaning now like a girl like Violet when she’s close and your ass is like the center of your existence and god that damn cock is fucking cool and it’s so good you don’t know what to do. You’ve never felt like this before. It’s too good and not enough and why the hell have you never done this before?

You whimper in disappointment when he suddenly stops, but apparently its only to switch positions because he grips your thighs and rolls over onto his back, somehow managing to stay balls deep in your ass except you’re on top now and the angle changes again, and if it was possible it feels even better. The smug bastard is smirking at you now but you don’t care because you need friction damn it so you dig your knees into the mattress and raise your hips just a bit before sinking back down and holy fuck you might have just turned gay because you never felt anything like this before, it’s like a frozen stalactite – or is it stalagmite which grows from the floor, you don’t remember and it doesn’t matter – in your ass and nothing has ever, seriously never, felt this damn amazing.

And the smug bastard beneath you just smirks, lust shining in his wild eyes, hips slamming up to meet yours. Both of you are meaning now, writhing together, and you have the wild thought to stay like this forever, racing towards ecstasy but reaching it, perched on his dick like it’s the only thing holding you together, and maybe it is. The ominous creaking from the bedsprings seems to agree with you.

Except Eric is obviously close now, his grip on your hips is getting desperate and his moans increase in volume and frequency. He digs his shoulders and his heels into the bed so that he can raise his hips and lower back every time the thrusts and the force this causes makes your entire body quake, which in turns makes you yell even louder. This is when you realize that he’s going in bareback and suddenly you wonder about disease, like are you gonna get AIDS now or something? But seriously if getting AIDS felt this damn amazing then you’d recommend the whole world to get the damn virus.

But not from Eric, no, you want to be the only one to climb on top of this gorgeous Swedish Viking and ride until you’re both screaming. Only you, and you don’t realize that you’ve said it aloud until he moans an affirmative, fangs flashing in his mouth. That’s probably the hottest thing you’ve ever seen so you lean forward, bracing yourself on your elbows, not stopping the frantic movement of your hips for a second as you demand that he bites you, baring your neck as you do.

And he strikes like a cobra, sinking his teeth into the exact same spot he bit earlier and that’s what pushes you over the edge. You scream like you’ve never screamed before, your entire body shaking with the force and you can’t believe that you’re coming untouched except for that your hands are clawing at the mattress and Eric’s hands are clawing at your hips so none of you are touching your dick that’s spewing between your bodies, but that’s okay because this is as good as it gets and it gets even better when Eric erupts inside you like a cold river of cum that never seems to end, that goes on and on in burst after burst, drawing out your orgasm until you’re practically crying and Eric is making some kind of noise that’s both a sob and a laugh as he goes limp beneath you and you collapse on top of him.

You’re scared to look at him now, this vampire that you tore you apart and put you back together, scared what you’ll see when you do. Maybe he’s scared too because he wraps his arms around you and pulls you in tight, burying his face in your neck and licking at the bite mark on your neck, the one he has left there.

He whispers your name like its important. Like it’s the most important thing he’s ever going to say, his arms tight around your waist, and you wonder what this means. Maybe it means that you’re not alone in this. So you turn your head, slowly, reluctantly, your body still trembling from aftershocks, feeling soft and pliant and molded to the hard body beneath yours. His eyes are so big, so blue, now. The animal you saw when you rode him is gone, all you see is the man.

He's still a smug bastard, but as he smiles at you, plaintive, almost tentative, you have a bit of an epiphany.

Eric Northman is a smug bastard, but by the look of things he’s _your_ smug bastard.

 


End file.
